


Life only gives you one love. Or does it?

by deathbyOTPin123



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, mentions of Edward nygma - Freeform, mentions of one sided Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbyOTPin123/pseuds/deathbyOTPin123
Summary: Set after the 4x18.Oswald tries to relax after saving Gotham from Jerome's gas, and deals with consequences of being on the blimp for too long. Jim interrupts, uninvited. Done with Jim's bullshit, Oswald gives him a piece of his mind. Turns out, Jim had some things he needed to get off his chest as well.Edited to fix inconsistencies. Rated M for adult themes.





	Life only gives you one love. Or does it?

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I wrote this with a lot of interruptions, so when I went back and read it again, there was a lot of errors and inconsistencies. Including Jim's police rank as I've accidentally promoted him to commissioner while he was only a captain at this point. Hopefully, I caught all the errors this time.

Oswald gripped his knee as another cramp shot through his bad leg. His other hand gripped onto the edge of the bathtub, knuckles going white. Eyes squeezed shut, he grit his teeth against the pain that went from his ankle up to his hip. It slowly subsided, allowing him to relax his muscles, straightening his leg under the warm water. Sweat dripped down his face, when he leaned his head back.

Sounds of commotion coming from outside his door snapped him from his moment of peace. The long day refused to be over, even with Jerome’s death and the blimp safely landed on the ground. Oswald was a hero of Gotham. Woop freaking doo. As if anyone cared. As if he himself cared. All he wanted was some quiet and peace, a warm dinner and a comfortable bed.

“I want to speak to Cobblepot!” Voice of James Gordon could be heard clearer now. Oswald sighed. He did his best to straighten himself up and put on the mask of indifference.

As predicted, in mere moments, the bathroom door burst open, one of his guards sliding over the floor from the impact. The watch on the sink showed half past eleven. Thirty more minutes and the day could’ve been over... Another guard tried to grab Jim, getting an elbow to the plexus for his effort.

“Enough!” Oswald interrupted as the first guard got back on his feet. “Leave us.”

“But, boss, you said no one...”

“ _I said, leave us,_ ” his tone allowed for no argument. He composed himself. “I’m sure that whatever the reason of captain Gordon’s visit, it must be important. A man like himself would surely not come here just to waste both his and my time.” He waved a hand towards the door. Jim straightened his suit as the guards left. The one that was thrown to the ground gave Jim a menacing look before closing the door.

Jim composed himself, opening his mouth to speak.

“What do you want?” Oswald cut him off. He knew he was being rude, but after all he’s been through that day, he allowed himself such behaviour.

“Right to the point?” Jim looked puzzled. “Right. You left without giving us a statement.” Oswald raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say _you must be joking_. Jim cleared his throat. “With everything that happened with Jerome, we have to make sure everything’s covered and accounted for…”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oswald…”

“Don’t!” He slammed his fist into the water, splashing it all around. “ _I don’t care._ My _statement_ can wait until _tomorrow_.” Every sentence was accentuated by more droplets of water flying into the air. Jim clenched his jaw at the display of anger. They’ve been at this a lot, lately, wound up like thought strings. The smallest thing could cause them to let loose. Jim took off his jacket to make himself more comfortable, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He moved the towel from the chair to the small dresser, taking a seat. The anger seemed to seep out of Oswald, replaced by exhaustion.

“What do you want, James?” He asked, the mask falling to show the resulting fatigue of the past couple of days. “What do you want from me, anymore?”

Jim looked at him slack jawed. Last time he saw Oswald like this was when he convinced him to lower the broken bottle he threatened him and Harvey with, after escaping Arkham. “I wanted to check on you.”

Oswald burst into manic laughter at that. The other man wondered if he should do something, as the laughter dissolved into giggles. He could hear a soft “lovely” slip out of Oswald’s lips as he wiped at his eyes. They stared at each other.

“You left me up there, on that blimp, for hours! I had to stand and steer the damn thing. Do you have any idea how much pressure that put on my leg?”

Jim’s face reddened at hearing this. They didn’t mean it like that. Penguin deserved it. Just like Harvey said as they entered the car. _Let him stew for a while. He had it coming._ Jim knew it was wrong. Yet he let Harvey talk him out of calling for support sooner.

“Don’t think for a second I believe that nonsense about not being able to find someone to help get me down for so long. I just hope you had a nice laugh at my expense…”

“I’m…”

“Stop it. I don’t care.” Oswald interrupted again. It seemed to be a theme for the night. Jim did look heartbroken though. Knowing him, Oswald could bet he did feel sorry at the moment. Jim’s problem was that he rarely thought enough steps ahead. Edward surpassed him by far in that category. Great. He was thinking about Ed now.

“I truly am sorry, Oswald.” Jim offered.

“Forget it. I made my own bed, now I shall lie in it.” He stood up in the tub, shameless of his nudity. Jim at least had enough decency to look away. The cop was uncomfortable. Good. Oswald wasn’t above petty revenge. “Speaking of beds… If there’s nothing more, I would like to go to mine. It’s been a long day.” He wiped himself off with the towel. He really hoped Jim would leave by now. But the stubbornness was just another of many of captain's  _qualities_. He didn’t want the other man to look at him stumble out of the tub. There was no going back into the cold water now. Both actions would look ridiculous, might as well go with the more logical one. What he didn’t expect was Jim offering an arm for him for support. He thought about it for a moment. Throwing away his pride for time being, he took a hold of it, and climbed out of the tub. It was gone as soon as he stood steady on the soft bath mat. Jim was there still though, now offering him his embroidered robe.

It was one of Oswald’s favorite possessions. The robe belonged to his father; who gave it to him after they found each other at his mother’s grave. It brought him comfort after everything he went through with Galavan and all that Strange has done to him. He let only one other person wear it, after his father passed. He hoped it would bring the comfort it brought him. What a waste that was. But it wasn’t the time to dwell on the mistakes from the past. He put it on, tightening the knot of the belt.

“I hope your bedroom is not far from here?” Jim’s gruff voice startled him out of his thoughts. Why was he still here? 

“No, James,” he answered in a sarcastic tone, “it’s all the way in the other wing. I just _love_ to walk around aimlessly around the house so much.” He rolled his eyes to emphasize as he limped around to the sink to grab his watch and his cane. The clasp gave his heavy fingers some trouble but he managed to put it on. Taking a hold of his cane, he walked out the door, wincing as pain shot through his side with every step.

He made it three steps into the hallway before he felt the ground disappear from under him. His decorated cane clattered to the ground as Jim held him tight against his chest, bridal style. “Just tell me where your bedroom is.” The bastard.

A loud smack echoed of the hallway walls when Oswald’s palm connected with Jim’s cheek in a brutal slap.

“What the _hell_?!” Jim exclaimed in shock.

“How _dare_ you?!” Oswald yelled back at the same time.

“I’m trying to help you! You’re clearly in a lot of pain.” The bastard had the guts to look offended now.

“That doesn’t give you the right! You can’t just pick people up and carry them around!” He stopped himself before slapping Jim again. Instead he gripped a handful of his shirt. “You just can’t.” _You just can’t take my control away from me_ , was what he meant to say. _Not after today. Not after Jerome._

Jim just kept holding him gently. “Fine, I’ll put you down.” Oswald held him tight around the shoulders. He hated to admit it, but it felt good to have the pressure off his leg again. Besides, he knew why Jim did it – his need to be a knight in shining armor compelled him.

“Wait. I’ll allow it this time. But _only_ this time. My room’s over there” He tried to hide his face by looking away and pointing in the direction of the open door. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t.” Jim promised. A small smirk was the only reply. “You have my word.” As he carried the smaller man in his arms, he thought he could hear a soft _whatever_ fall from his lips. He let it slide as he enjoyed the precious moment of holding Oswald in his arms. One of the rare times he was allowed to touch him without the pretense of aggression.

Jim often found himself daydreaming, and regular dreaming, of the man in his arms. Ever since he let him live by faking his death at the docks, Oswald’s face would casually slip into the forefront of his mind from his subconsciousness. A silly part of him hoped that the man has learned his lesson after the events that led him to the docks and would make an honest life in another town. That same part of him dreamed he left with him. Left Gotham to rot from inside out, left Barbara to the drugs he turned a blind eye to, and joined him. All of this was before Oswald showed up at his door, announcing his return.

Now, he no longer needed to wonder what it would feel like to take him to bed. The trip form the bathroom to the bedroom turned out to be too short. Soon he was laying Oswald down into the middle of the large, four post bed, tucking him into the covers from waist down. For the crime boss allowed him this, he must have been really at the end of his strenght.

A tray with a couple of sandwiches, assorted cheeses, grapes and a glass of wine was set on the bedside table. The bottle of wine was right next to it. Jim plopped himself on the edge of the bed and handed the tray to Oswald. His stomach growled as the other shoved food into his mouth in a hungry way he often did. Listening to the hums of approval and delight didn’t help quench the thought that Jim haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. If one could consider a cup of horrible precinct coffee and one glazed donut such. He plucked a grape from the stem and popped it into his mouth. The juice in his mouth felt divine.

“Oh, by all means, help yourself, captain.” Oswald mocked him.

“I haven’t eaten the whole day, give me a break.” As if to corroborate his story, his stomach let out a loud growl. Oswald chewed some more, mulling over it, before swallowing. They both looked horrible; hungry, bags under their eyes, worn out from Jerome’s insane plans. Beside the food, Oswald’s only advantage over Jim was that he was no longer in his clothes from that day. Jim’s only saving grace was the forty-eight hour deodorant he started using lately. One could not rely on regular showers in Gotham.

“Try the camembert.” He nudged the tray towards Jim. Then fluffed up one of the pillows for Jim to lean into the headboard, next to him. “No shoes in the bed.”

Jim sighed as he toed off his black shoes, quickly placing his feet under the mattress out of politeness. He leaned into the pillow, shoulder brushing with Oswald’s as he took one of the sandwiches and some cheese, diving into it with same fervor Oswald had a few moments ago. They ate in silence, sharing the food and the wine, until the tray was clean save for the grape stems. Oswald sighed in contempt as the tray was taken from him. He closed his eyes, leaning back, finally able to relax.

“Why didn’t you ask Nygma for help?” So much about that.

“You know why. Whole Gotham underworld knows why.” Oswald snorted. “Edward made sure of that.”

“Still. I heard you saved his life. You can’t be at such bad terms still?” Jim kept his tone neutral. He found the whole thing blown out of proportions. Although what could one expect with these two parties involved. Each a diva in his own way.

“Just because we’re not trying to kill each other anymore, doesn’t mean we’re friends, Jim.” The look in his eyes seemed to say it all. _I want to be,_ it said. _I want to be more._ Jim knew that hurt. He felt it himself, often. A pang of jealousy cut through him. He knew he should stop there. Let go of it all, thank Oswald for the dinner and leave. But instead of letting the knife sit, he had to twist it further.

“You still love him. Don’t you?” The question was already answered. Why ask it again when it would change nothing? Yet he had to. His words caused Oswald to look away.

“Life only gives you one love, Jim. Just because I respect his feelings, or lack of, doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving him. It’s just something I have to- I’m _learning_ how to live with.” He corrected himself, the resolve in his voice wavering.

A better man would back off then and there. Let go until Oswald was ready. Sadly, Jim stopped being that better man long time ago. When he was young, he believed the same as Oswald did. That there was only one love, only one true person out there for each of us. But, as he grew and fell in and out of love, he learned life didn’t work that way. “I don’t know, Oswald. That might not be true for everyone.”

“What do you mean?” A trace of hope slipped out with the words. Bright green eyes looked at him, suddenly awake. “I won’t stop loving Edward, Jim. I’ve tried. I truly did. I tried hating him. I tried killing him, and when I couldn’t, I froze him. He turned me down, humiliated me, almost killed me, over and over again… And yet I…” He looked away again at that, fiddling with the belt of his robe. “I can’t _stop_.” If Jim thought jealousy hurt, it was because he haven’t heard the pain in those three words yet. He fought the urge to wrap the other man in his arms; to hold him close until his embrace could wash it all go away.

“Maybe you don’t have to.” Jim’s hand slowly slid over Oswald’s, enclosing around his fingers as he still picked on the cover. “Oswald, of all the people I’ve met, _you_ have the _biggest_ heart. What if there’s enough place in it for someone else, besides Nygma?”

“Don’t tell anyone but, a part of me still loves Barbara. What we had before was special, and I will always care for her. Just like I care for Lee.” He intertwined their fingers as the hand started to slip from his. “Nygma is already sharing your heart with Martin and Gotham. Maybe there’s still place for someone else in it.” _Someone like me._

“Maybe someone who was already in it? Before.” Oswald wondered out loud. He pulled his hand out of Jim’s grip, only to place it on his cheek. It was a moment of courage. Oswald laid his heart bare far too many times to have it cut up and left to bleed. If he was reading this all wrong, if Jim was just being friendly... Could he go through it again? Yet, he knew, just like for Edward, he would do everything for the former detective. “Jim? You always had a special place in my heart. Could you, maybe have some space in your own… for me?”

As if knowing, Jim didn’t take long with his answer. He pressed their foreheads together, taking a hold of Oswald’s pointy chin. “I already do.” With that he leaned in, pressing their mouths together. They gave into the soft, slow kisses for a while before relaxing into the bed.

With his head against Jim’s shoulder, Oswald’s mind buzzed with thoughts. The bedside clock showed it was way past midnight. His body begged for sleep his mind wouldn’t succumb to. Jim’s warm hands moved over his back, in a soothing manner. It should’ve felt sweet, to be held like this. But he felt bitterness at the back of his throat. Maybe Jim was able to put his past loves behind, still holding them dear as friends. Oswald wished he could say the same about himself.

“It won’t work.” The words fought their way out. “I still hope he changes his mind, Jim. What if he does? I can’t do this to you. I just can’t.” He pulled out of Jim’s embrace harshly. Tears stinged his skin as they rolled down his cheeks.

“Do you want him more than me?” Jim’s hands still haven’t left him. Holding onto his arms instead of his back now.

“No!” The word carried certainty that surprised Oswald himself. “I just never thought… You’ve never shown… You know what I mean! It’s all too much.” He wiped at his face with his sleeve. Willing the tears away didn’t seem to work.

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long. I do love you.” Jim reassured him with soft kisses to his face. Starting from his forehead, over his cheeks until he lowered his tear drenched sleeve.

“And I love you both. I really do, Jim. But if the world turns upside down, and he returns the feelings?” Oswald’s fingers caressed Jim’s face. He didn’t want to lose him, yet he couldn’t lie to him. “I know, I know he won’t. But what if he does?”

“Then he better learn how to share.” The last thing he expected from Jim at that moment was a warm smile he got. “I’m not letting you go as long as you’ll have me. Even if it means sharing a bed with the Riddler.” He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. Luckily, it worked. There was only so much tension one could take before either breaking apart or breaking into laughter.

“Are you saying you’d like to have a threesome?” The incredulous look on Oswald’s face was turned up to eleven, making it clear it was a joke.

“With Nygma? More of a foursome, if you ask me. Captain of GCPD, the Penguin, the Riddler and one Edward Nygma.” He counted them on the fingers of his left hand. “Ow!”

“Jim!” Oswald hit him on the arm with a loose fist, making him chuckle in response. “You have a dirty mind, James Gordon.”

“You’re the one who asked about the threesome!” They both laughed at that as Jim pulled him back down into a hug. He combed his fingers through his hair gently. “I should go. We’re both exhausted.”

“Stay until I fall asleep, please?” A pointless question, Jim thought, asked out of politeness. Oswald’s limbs were already holding him close.

“I was hoping you’d ask me to stay the night.” He loosened his tie and placed it on the bedside table. He felt the man in his arms go stiff. “Just sleeping,” he added in a calm tone. Gradually, Oswald relaxed. He mumbled something incoherent as he drifted off to sleep. Jim joined him soon, his fingers stilling in the dark curls.

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wrote this as a script for a comic, but decided not to do it in the end. That is the reason why it's more dialogue heavy than descriptive.


End file.
